


Missed Planes

by orphan_account



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, NOT Jemma/Will, fitz misses his plane, kind of, meet cute, meeting at a conference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 11:20:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6954442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo Fitz has never believed in luck, but when the plane is delayed to his conference presentation, he starts to think he may just be the luckiest man alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missed Planes

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at writing, so I hope you enjoy it! :) 
> 
> P.S. Spot the Friends reference!
> 
> Inspired by [this](http://greeneyedsungod.tumblr.com/post/141675747142/but-just-like-imagine-fitz-is-sitting-at-a) prompt

If Leo Fitz was to believe in luck, he would quite happily admit that he was, in fact, extremely unlucky. It’s not that he wasn’t careless every time he held his tea, or that he deliberately over slept on most days and missed the bus to work. He was just very unfortunate to do the wrong thing at the wrong time. 

Today, fate proved Fitz that bad luck was something he couldn’t escape, and despite his initial beliefs that bad luck was simply coincidental, and that all things deemed as “lucky” were purely unappreciated genius, Fitz had to admit that fate was pretty cruel when it came to him. 

Clearly, the Gods found what pitiful excuse of a life he had hilarious. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been late for his own presentation, nor the brilliant scientists, Dr Jemma Simmons, whose presentation he had been anticipating since he saw her name scheduled last fall. 

Thirty-five minutes ago his presentation would have ended, with showers of questions and faces of curiosity, proposals to put his work into place, and praise for his revolutionary concepts…or so Fitz had hoped his presentation would end. Here, he sits in a swanky bar, someplace in Bucharest, a glass of scotch with his name on it, as he drowns his sorrows in his liquor. Mulling over the fact, that he may just be cursed. 

His contemplation is quickly interrupted, as he feels the sharp vibration of his phone, move violently in his jacket pocket.

Bobbi. Of course.

He sighs, answering the call and pressing the phone to his ear, “Hello?” 

“Fitz,” Bobbi greets, “How did the presentation go?”

“It didn’t.” Fitz answers simply, “I didn’t make it in time. Bloody plane was delayed.”

“Hmm, interesting, wouldn’t it have been great, if someone suggested you fly out a day early?” 

“Yes, Barbara, that would have been lovely.”

“And wouldn’t it be even greater, if you had have listened to that someone?” 

“Oh yeah, be smug about it all you like, but you’re not the one who missed the opportunity of a lifetime today.”

“Opportunity of a lifetime? You’ve done plenty of presentations. I’m sure missing one nerd gathering at some pasty hotel, isn’t going to affect your life significantly. Besides, you’ve got that presentation in Tahiti next month, so long as you don’t miss the plane for that one, I’m sure you’ll be fine.” 

Fitz lets out an exasperated chuckle, “Not mine, Barbs, I meant Dr Jemma Simmons’. You know, the biochemist I was telling you about?”

“Oh, you mean the biochemist you were telling me I should make my role model?” Bobbi asks. 

“I never said that.” Fitz argues, stumbling around his words.

“Not directly, but I knew what you were implying.” 

“I never implied anything, I simply suggested that it would be nice to find a biochemist who is dedicated to her work, rather than hiding in the supplies cupboard, snogging her boyfriend like two teenagers.” Fitz sighs, and drops his defensive tone. “How is Hunter, anyway?” 

“Drunk, as usual. But don’t change the subject. You totally insulted me, besides, how do you know Dr Jemma Simmons isn’t making out with her boyfriend every two seconds? Bobbi argues indignantly. 

“Well, according to the S.H.I.E.L.D. search engine, she doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh. My. God. Have you been stalking her? Fitz, what did we talk about—“

“No! I wasn’t stalking her…per se, I just admire her work ethic. And her paper on the application of dendrotoxin in WMD and military equipment, was sheer genius. I’ve heard rumours that she’s the one who developed the antivirus to the Chituari disease, which infected Agent Coulson after the Battle of New York …her work, it’s honestly brilliant. It’s a shame I didn’t get to hear more of her plans for the dendrotoxin, nor her research into the GH25 Formula.” Fitz finishes, realising that she is about to tease him endlessly, so decides to plough through a goodbye, before hanging up. 

Fitz is about to down his scotch and leave, when he feels a light tap on his shoulder. He turns to the source of the nudge, and flushes almost immediately as he recognises the person interrupting his quite drink.

“Hello, I’m-“The woman begins but is cut off by Fitz’ enthusiastic introduction.

“Dr Jemma Simmons.” His voice is light and breathy, and he knows he should be more embarrassed about how breathless he sounds but at this moment in time, he really can’t bring himself to care. 

“It seems you know more about me, than I of you. You are?” She asks politely, with a wide smile for good measure, and Fitz swears it’s not possible for someone to smile so sweetly. Sure, he’s seen pictures of her pearly white teeth in That’s Science articles before, but they were never as breath taking as seeing her smile in person.

“I-um-I’m Fitz,” He begins stuttering wildly, attempting to gain some control over his nerves, and fails in the process. “Well, um, Dr Leo Fitz. I have a PhD- I- not to brag, I just- in case you thought that I—“

“Do you mind if I join you?” She asks, and Fitz is torn between thanking her for cutting off his rambles, or to just thank her for choosing to sit with him. He favours nodding his head vigorously, with his mouth agape, worried in case thanking her would come across as too desperate. 

“So…Dr Leo Fitz?” She asks in confirmation, and Fitz nods his head a “Yes”. “Weren’t you suppose to present at S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Science Conference an hour ago?”  
“Forty-two minutes ago, precisely, but, um, yes.” He answers instantaneously, and immediately regrets correcting her estimate. 

“Was your presentation moved to another room? I was positive you were presenting in conference room 3B.” She asks. Her eyebrows are knitted together in disappointment, and her lips are tugged downwards slightly. 

“Uh, no. My plane was delayed for two hours. Something was wrong with the left flange, apparently.”  
Dr Simmons tusk’s in disapproval. “You really ought to arrive a day earlier, just in order to prepare yourself, you know?” 

“You know, I think you might be right. So, how early did you fly out here, Dr Simmons?” 

“Oh, please call me Jemma.” She offers immediately, out of habit, and there’s a flash of guilt in Jemma’s eyes before she continues. “I actually arrived three hours before my talk.” She answers, teeth tugging on her lips, and Fitz is about to call her out on being a hypocrite, when she adds, “I generally excel at preparation, but I’ve been so consumed with my research on dendro-toxins that I didn’t have time to fly out until last minute-” 

Fitz makes a non-committal noise in agreement, as she continues to explain. “I couldn’t agree with you more, Jemma, which is why-“

“-but, at least I wasn’t late for my own conference.” She teases, as though it’s completely normal.

The corners of his lips turn up, unprepared for her taunting. “I’ll have you know, Dr Simmons, I was about to praise your work and tell you how disappointed I was to have missed your presentation, but now I-“

“Oh, there’s no need for praise, Dr Fitz, not after listening to your phone call.” She goads, with a devilish smirk. 

Fitz stops talking all together, stuttering in incredulity, “I-uh-you heard—“ he pauses, and decides that for once, Leo Fitz is going to test his “luck” and be confident. He clears his throat, “Well, it’s nothing far from the truth.”

There’s a brief pause, before Jemma’s smirk turns into a genuine smile. “Good, because I was quite disappointed when I couldn’t find your presentation.” 

“You were?” Fitz somehow finds himself breathless, yet again. Abashed that someone as well established and intelligent as Dr Jemma Simmons, would take interest in his work.

Jemma slowly bobs her head up and down, a small smile still ghosting across her red stained lips. “Perhaps, you could tell me more about your ideas? I was impressed by your Golden Retrievers and Back-Scatter Glasses.” She comments, and Fitz swears he could die a happy man just knowing that Jemma Simmons was impressed by his work. She continues, “Not to mention how big of a help your Full-Spectrum Glasses have been in my department.” Scratch that, Fitz would die an even happier man, knowing that Jemma Simmons is impressed by and has used his work. 

“Of course. But it’s a two way street, Jemma, you tell me your ideas and I’ll tell you mine.” He challenges. He really is disappointed that he missed her presentation, but now that he has the chance to speak with Jemma, one-on-one, about both their ideas, he’s kind of pleased that his flight was delayed.

“Well then. Where would you like to start, Fitz?” 

“Start with everything.” He answers without missing a beat. 

~*~*~*~

 

It’s been two hours and twenty four minutes, if Fitz is being precise, since they jumped into conversation about their respective presentations. The drinks kept coming, and their sentences blurred into one as they finished the others thought. One conversation lead to a discussion, one idea lead to designs, and as one thing lead to another, they found themselves in the throes of collaboration. Taking one idea and contributing to it to make something much more efficient.

So far, Jemma had come up with a solution to Fitz’ D.W.A.R.F. problem, suggesting that he separate the senses, using multiple drones with individual focusing points, in lieu of creating one drone to complete all aspects. Whilst Fitz had constructed designs for a pistol to hold the dendro-toxin, Jemma had been researching, on a napkin. The pair continued to bounce ideas off of each other, exchanging advice and critical feedback, and Fitz was starting to believe that nonsense such as “luck” did actually exist. 

His luck ran out the moment Jemma’s phone rang.  
Subconsciously, the pair had edged closer towards one another throughout their time together. So close in fact, that Jemma had to stand to retrieve her phone from her leather pants. She stared at her phone for a singular moment, before meeting Fitz’ gaze. 

“I’m sorry to ruin our talk, Fitz.” She began, ignoring the consistent ring of mobile. He gave her a quiet, “It’s fine”, as she continued, “I agreed to drinks with some guy a few weeks back, and it seemed convenient that he and I were in town this weekend around the same time and I—“ Jemma sighed, and Fitz knew what was coming, “I can canc-“

"You should go.” He interrupts, ignoring the clench in his chest as he encourages her. “You’ve already agreed to drinks, anyway. You’ve waited weeks now, I can’t-“he pauses for a moment, and looks away from her gaze. “I won’t get in your way.”

Jemma stands there a moment longer, waiting for something, but he isn’t sure what. Her phone stops ringing, but only a second passes before its shrill tune resounds. He nods at her, giving her the queue to answer, and she shoots him one final apologetic look, before answering her phone and heading to the privacy of the bar.

When she comes back several moments later, Fitz has already ordered himself another scotch, prepared to drown his sorrows, yet again, once she leaves. Jemma puts her red jacket back on, wishing to hear from Fitz soon so they can put their ideas forward and he nods, wishing her a nice date before rambling on whether or not people in today’s society wish each other a nice date. Jemma just laughs.

Moments before she leaves, Fitz catches a glimpse of the man Jemma had arranged to have drinks with. He can’t help but think Jemma deserves better than a man who shows up in a ketchup stained shirt for a date; with a smug, hog face. 

Fitz turns away and lifts the glass of scotch to his lips. Downing the drink in one gulp, his brows furrow in curiosity as he sees a blurred figure through the bottom of the glass. Pulling the glass from his lips and looking up, he’s met with an amused Jemma and a, “You didn’t really think I’d ditch you for someone who doesn’t even know Newton’s Third Law of Thermodynamics, do you?” 

It’s a mouthful to say, but Fitz accepts her reasoning and asks whether she’d like to grab a drink with him instead. The answer of course is yes, and later that evening, when Fitz walks Jemma back to her hotel room, he can’t help but think he’s the luckiest man alive.


End file.
